


We’ll Figure It Out Just Like We Always Do

by FangirlWriter15



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crying Jack Kline, Gen, Hurt Jack Kline, Hurt/Comfort, Worried Winchesters, possibly au?, post season 13 finale, trigger warning: suicide attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 11:45:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15072473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangirlWriter15/pseuds/FangirlWriter15
Summary: TRIGGER WARNING FOR SUICIDE ATTEMPTThinking he has failed his family one too many times, Jack tries to end it all, but Sam and Dean are there to pull him back from the edge.





	We’ll Figure It Out Just Like We Always Do

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first posting on AO3, so please be gentle.

Jack stared down at the knife in his hand, face pensive. It really was beautiful. The blade, slightly curved at the tip, was made of a metal that probably at one point was like a mirror, but that had long since faded with the various nicks and scratches. The grip was the kind that conformed to the hand of the person holding it, and had the multicolored appearance of heat-stained metal

Jack felt bad about stealing it from Sam’s room, and even worse about how he might ruin the hunter’s favorite pocket knife, but it was the only one left out and the nephilim didn’t want to disturb the room too much.

Jack shifted a little nervously in his position, sitting on the floor under one of the bathroom sinks, and ran a fingernail briefly along the edge of the blade, the way Dean had taught him. It was sharp enough.

A thought that the gruff hunter would be proud of him for the sharpening job crossed his mind and he almost laughed at the absurdity. Why would Dean, or anyone else for that matter, be proud of him.

He had failed more times than he could count, failed his friends, failed his family. Now without his powers, he couldn’t even make it right.

The Winchesters had only narrowly made it out of this last hunt alive, no thanks to him. Why did they keep bringing him along?

Why did they keep him around at all?

He was a burden. He was useless.

Jack’s hand shook slightly around the knife, as these thoughts ran through his head. He shoved down his fear, and reminded himself, once again, that this was for the best. This was for his family.

He knew this would work. The only reason it hadn’t with his mother, was because he had brought her back. Without his powers, he couldn’t heal himself even if he wanted to.

And he didn’t want to.

Jack briefly wondered if he would be missed. Maybe by Sam. Sam was always nice to him. That was why Jack had waited until the hunter was away on a supply run. He would try to stop him.

Would Sam be angry about this? Would he see this as weakness?

No.

This was strength. Just like Dean had said, not long before everything with Michael. This was Jack helping his family.

Forcing his hands to steady, the nephilim put the tip of the blade against the underside of his wrist. He let out a shaking breath, and reminded himself, one more time, that this was for the best. He found himself repeating it like a mantra in his head.

He wished he could have said goodbye, told them he loved them, told them he was sorry. But, it was too late now. There was no going back.

With those words still ringing in his mind, Jack slashed the knife down his wrist.

(())(())

Dean would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about the kid. Jack had been pretty messed up since the hunt.

Dean wasn’t angry, how could he be? It wasn’t the kid’s fault that this hunt had been a close one. But Dean knew Jack did tend to blame himself for things that were out of his control. A trait he had no doubt picked up from being around the Winchesters for so long.

Dean thought he should probably check on the kid. Jack had retreated to his room as soon as they had returned to the bunker, and hadn’t come out since.

Dean went to the kid’s room to find the door ajar with no sign of the nephilim. The hunter was about to check the kitchen, when he saw a light under the bathroom door.

“Hey, kid, you in there?” he called and received no answer.

Dean knocked on the door and was surprised as it moved to open slightly, having not been locked.

“Jack?” he called again, but no acknowledgement came.

Dean felt an uneasy feeling wash over him as he pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped inside.

That was when his eyes landed on a sight that threatened to make his stomach empty its contents and turn his blood to ice.

“Oh my god,” he breathed.

For a moment, Dean was frozen in place, staring at the boy on the floor before him, sitting against the wall in a pool of his own blood, eyes closed. Then the nephilim let out a soft moan and Dean was galvanized into action.

Closing the short distance from the door to Jack in less than a millisecond, the hunter dropped to his knees beside the boy and pressed his fingers to his neck. Jack’s pulse was weak and thready but it was there, and that was good enough for Dean.

The hunter kept one hand on the side of the nephilim’s face to keep his head upright as he searched for the source of the blood.

“Jack?” he said, hearing his voice shake slightly. “C’mon, buddy, I need you to wake up.”

Jack stirred against his hand. “N-No. You’re no’ suppose’ t’ be here,” he slurred.

Confusion flashed across Dean’s mind.

“What are you-“

Dean trailed off as his gaze landed on his brother’s bloodied pocket knife, lying on the floor next to Jack’s hand, and the blood’s source became apparent when he caught sight of the boy’s wrists.

Dean was unable to form words as the full weight of this discovery crashed down on him.  
He wanted to block it out, deny it. He wanted to believe that there was no way the kid could be suicidal, but the evidence was right in front of his face.

Jack’s eyes had fallen closed again by the time Dean’s initial shock had faded. The hunter grabbed the nephilim’s shoulder and shook him harshly. The boy’s eyes slid open sluggishly.

“There you go. Keep those eyes open for me, yeah?”

Dean grabbed a hand towel from the bar overhead and wrapped it tightly around Jack’s wrist and forearm. The kid whimpered as it made contact with the open wounds.

Dean got to his feet and ran to grab another towel from the linen closet in the corridor.

By the time he returned, Jack was already attempting to remove the makeshift bandage.

“Hey! Don’t touch that!”

Dean pulled the boy’s hand away from the bandage and rewrapped it, then wrapped the other wrist. The hunter pressed down hard on the cuts, but the nephilim barely reacted.

“Can you stand?”

Jack only blinked, clearly not understanding. Dean took that as a no.

The hunter carefully arranged Jack’s hands in his lap, slipped his arms behind the boy’s back and under his knees, and lifted him, holding him to his chest like he would a small child.

Jack, now completely unconscious, was a dead weight in Dean’s arms as he carried the kid to the car. He couldn’t tell if Jack had passed out from blood loss or shock, but if it was the former, Dean knew he was just kidding himself.

How was he going to tell Sam about this? What would he tell Sam if the kid–

Dean couldn’t bear to finish the thought.

(())(())

“I’m home,” Sam called out to no one in particular as he entered the bunker.

No one answered him, not that he expected them to.

Sam made his way to the kitchen to drop off his groceries, but stopped as he noticed that the bathroom door was wide open with the light still on.

How many times had he told Dean and Jack to-

Sam’s irritated thoughts immediately dissipated when he saw the blood. A pool of it under the sink.

The hunter quickly set down the groceries and pulled his gun from his waistband.

“Dean?” he called as he crept down the corridor, “Jack?”

Sam startled slightly as his phone suddenly rang. The caller ID displayed his brother’s name.

“Dean, where are you? What the hell happened?” Sam demanded when he answered it.

“Sammy.”

The sheer amount of emotion contained in the single word was enough to make Sam pause.

“Dean, what’s wrong?”

Dean heaved a shaky sigh over the line. “Jack tried to kill himself.”

Sam felt as if the air had been sucked from his lungs. He found himself unable to form words.

“Sam?” came Dean’s voice, raw from emotion.

Sam swallowed thickly.

“How is he?” His voice matched his brother’s.

“I don’t know, Sammy.” Dean’s voice cracked on his nickname. “I don’t know. He’s in surgery.”

Sam felt moisture pricking at his eyes and blinked furiously in an attempt to keep it at bay.

“Where are you?”

“Smith County Memorial,” Dean answered, “Under Novak.”

“Okay, I’m on my way. Keep me posted.”

Sam ended the call and forced himself to take a steadying breath, and retraced his steps to the bunker’s door.

Sam climbed back into his car and leaned against the steering wheel, eyes closed, throat swelling with emotion.

How could this happen? How could he let this happen? How could he not have seen that the boy he cared for almost like a son was suicidal?

Sam wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to break. But all of that could wait, because Jack needed him now.

(())(())

The dull ache in his forearms was the first thing that Jack became aware of. His first instinct was to move them closer to his eyes, despite them still being closed, to find the source of the pain, but all he managed was a twitch of his fingers.

“Jack?”

A familiar, gentle voice broke through the haze over his senses.

“Jack, can you hear me?”

Jack finally opened his heavy eyelids. Sam was sat in the chair at his bedside, elbows propped on the edge of the mattress, holding one of the nephilim’s hands in both of his own. The older man’s eyes were red-rimmed, with the same dark shadows that Sam always got when he was sleep deprived.

A hand landed on his shoulder and Jack looked up to see Dean standing on the other side of his bed. The hunter offered a small smile, which was immediately betrayed by a deep sadness poorly concealed in his eyes.

Were they disappointed in him? Angry with him? Jack figured they must be. He had failed again. He couldn’t even kill himself right.

“How do you feel?” Sam asked softly, running a thumb over Jack’s knuckles.

The nephilim gave a small shrug and settled for staring down at the foot of the bed. He should have cut deeper, then Dean probably wouldn’t have found him before he was past-

“Jack!”

Sam’s voice cut sharply into his subconscious. Jack looked up and was met with a mixture of horror and gut-wrenching anguish on Sam’s face. The nephilim must have said that last thought out loud.

Sam shut his eyes and leaned his forehead against his hands. When he met Jack’s eyes again, they were flecked with moisture.

“Jack, why would you do this to yourself?” Sam asked, forcing his voice to be steady.

Jack paused before speaking.

“You almost died on the last hunt because of me.” Jack shifted his gaze up to Dean. “Both of you.”

Dean’s grip on his shoulder tightened.

“Jack, that wasn’t on you,” the gruff hunter told him.

Jack looked down at his lap.

“It wouldn’t have happened if I had my powers. I’m useless.”

“Jack, you are not useless,” Sam said, giving his hand a squeeze.

“And for the record, we keep you around because we care about you, not what you can do for us,” Dean added.

“But you didn’t answer my question, Jack,” Sam prompted.

Jack shut his eyes as he felt the tears coming.

“Jack?” came Sam’s soft voice.

The nephilim broke. A sob tore itself from his throat as unshed tears rolled down his cheeks. Sam released his hand and pulled him into a hug.

“I can’t let you get hurt because of me,” Jack sobbed.

Sam rested his chin on the top of the nephilim’s head.

“It’s not your job to protect us, Jack,” Sam said softly, carding his fingers through his hair.

The bed dipped as Dean sat on the edge.

“And if something does happen,” the hunter said, “we’ll deal with it just like we always do. Together.”

Jack found himself taking comfort in those words.

“Jack, you need to make us a promise, okay?” Sam said, voice serious, “That you won’t ever do something like this again.”

Jack nodded against the hunter’s chest.

“I promise.”

They stayed like that for a long while before Jack spoke up again.

“I love you,” he said, repeating his words to Sam in the church, “I love all of you.”

Sam smiled and hugged Jack tighter, then replied for both him and his brother.

“We love you too, Jack”


End file.
